


Take My Hand

by spacewritermonkey



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27213049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacewritermonkey/pseuds/spacewritermonkey
Summary: Beatrice is ready to take the last steps necessary to make it official and known to everyone--even her parents--that Ava Silva is hers and she is Ava's.
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 16
Kudos: 173





	Take My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry. This is a one shot, folks. No unfinished WIP to see here.

She's here.

All she needs to do is take one step.

And then another.

One foot in front of the other.

She's pretty sure she remembers how.

Except...

Seeing her parents right there... Waiting...

Their faces are mostly inscrutable at this distance, even with her pretty decent eyesight. But Beatrice imagines the silent anger and displeasure at being "surprised" in this manner.

Beatrice has spent a long time disciplining herself in facing down demons: both her own and those of the underworld. Yet somehow, she remains fearful of certain things: like her past, full of shadows comprised of terse words, quiet disappointment, and the echoes of learning from her parents’ assistant that she was being sent away. _For her good_ , they said. But in her early age with a still tender heart, all Beatrice heard instead was _for good_.

A part of her still feels the instinct to cower beneath the heavy gazes of these people who supposedly raised her, whom she thought were meant to love her unconditionally. Beatrice tries to muster every ounce of courage that had brought her to this point…that is, until she feels something touch her hand by her side. Looking down in time, Beatrice notes a hand nearly as familiar as her own, its fingers intertwining with hers.

Warm, solid, steady... Her constant.

Beatrice looks up to meet Ava's gaze.

"I'm here."

That's all Ava says, and the former nun finds her feet moving in step with the younger woman beside her. As always, they find themselves stronger together.

In this moment, she finds all the courage she needs in the woman right beside her.

The moment she takes that first step forward, the first keys to the song begin to reverberate. And in a few seconds, the hum of the artist’s voice follows.

And Beatrice feels a sense of confusion settling in.

The battle of what song to play had been a sight to behold—at least according to Camila—and this piece of music is wholly unfamiliar to her. Yet, Beatrice trusts in the idea that this couldn’t be a mistake. Not after every effort they’ve put into this—that _Ava_ had put into this.

The words finally come, ringing loud and clear as every detail—everything and everyone else—finally begin to penetrate the fog in Beatrice's mind upon seeing the faces from her past she thought she'd left behind.

She's getting married. Yet, these words…

> _"Car is parked_
> 
> _Bags are packed_
> 
> _But what kind of heart_
> 
> _doesn't look back?_
> 
> _At the comfortable glow from the porch,_
> 
> _the one I will still call yours?"_

"This...is a goodbye song."

Beatrice's voice hitches at the realization, her foot stumbling a beat as she whips her head around to look at Ava who wouldn't—couldn't?—meet her gaze.

There should have been a reply.

Except they have reached the end of the aisle, the officiant waiting patiently, just as Ava's hand starts to pull away.

"I'm sorry." Ava mutters.

Beatrice didn't think her heart could ever feel like it did when she once thought she'd lost Ava to death for that one time.

But she was wrong.

"Ava..." Beatrice's voice trails off weakly.

She can feel everyone's eyes upon them—upon her. Particularly that of her parents. She doesn't think she can face them and their likely pleased facial expressions, but surely that would be a whole lot better than watching the love of her life walk away from her.

"I'm sorry, Bea." Ava still won't look at her, instead choosing to avert her eyes at some point somewhere over her shoulder.

Beatrice forces herself to follow her possibly former fiancee's gaze and feels the rush of anger spike as she notices their wedding planner. A wedding planner who had spent an inordinate amount of time "casually" touching Ava instead of planning.

Never the kind to dwell on regrets, Beatrice finds that she now has one: she should have fired that woman when she had a chance.

Although perhaps that was on her. She had been confident.

Trusting that Ava was hers and only hers.

 _Was_.

_Giving up so easily? You literally fought heaven and hell to bring her back and some WOMAN is going to take her away from without an ounce of struggle?_

Beatrice would always choose Ava’s happiness over hers.

But her internal voice is right. She can’t let Ava walk away from her—from them—so casually. Like the last couple of years they’ve spent together meant nothing.

As Ava pulls farther away, Beatrice finds her hand finally responding to her brain’s internal screams and reaches out to take firm hold of Ava’s wrist.

“Why?”

It’s the only word she can come up with and from her periphery, she recognizes movement and turns briefly to see Lilith storming in from one of the furthermost doors. Graceful yet fierce, Lilith’s eyes hold a touch of anger and Beatrice has this momentary thought that had her friend been grasping a weapon instead of her flowing skirt, she’d think that friend was gearing for battle.

In that split second following said thought, a moment of panic hits her—part fear and part hope—that Ava’s change of heart and mind could possibly be attributed to a possession.

Except Ava turns back towards Beatrice, with obvious plea much clear in her voice, “You have to let me go, Bea.”

That note of plea hits her harder than any slap or cut Ava could have wielded at her in that moment.

“Why?”

All this pain and it’s still the only word Beatrice can come up with.

She feels her chest getting tight. Something inside is screaming to be let out.

“Why?? Why??! I’ll tell you why!”

The anger, sadly, does not surprise Beatrice.

It’s the speaker who does.

Lilith hissed the words posed as a question, just as her little bridesmaid bag catches Beatrice’s trained eye, swinging upwards and heading straight for Ava.

And despite her heart breaking…Beatrice could never sit idly by and let Ava get hurt. Not in this life. Not even in the next. Even if they aren’t meant to spend either together as she’d hoped and dreamed.

Every person in attendance witnessed one of the brides seemingly move so quickly it was as if it only took a blink of an eye and said bride intercepted a hit meant for her fiancée.

Despite the music, the thud of something heavy hitting flesh makes itself known, thanks to the lovely acoustics of the old library Beatrice had chosen to get married in. _How fitting_ , Beatrice thinks, _this is what it takes to get the music to finally stop._

“Beatrice!” Ava’s voice echoes almost immediately, followed by a hand on her arm where Lilith’s hit had landed, another caressing her face as Ava’s eyes travel all over her figure, seemingly assuring herself that no further harm had come to her.

For a moment, Beatrice thinks _she must still love me._

Ava’s perusal of her arm is accompanied by Ava’s accusation leveled at their friend. “What the hell, Lilith?! I think Bea’s skin has an imprint—what the fuck would you carry around a goddamn purse that’s so heavy??!”

Lilith gives Ava a healthy glare of proportions, “I’d say your brain, but I doubt it’d weigh much.”

“Hey!" Mary, who the couple had requested and assigned as their officiant, finally breaks her silence as the antics of her supposed friends seem to have reached fevered pitch. "What the hell—you guys were past this level of squabbling like ages ago.” She’d been waiting and hoping the pause down the aisle would be momentary. Except she’d seen Ava say something and she hadn’t seen Beatrice turn that shade of white for so long. Not since that last battle.

And with Lilith coming in like fury in heels, Mary knew something was definitely wrong.

Even Camila, who is set as Beatrice’s own bridesmaid, breaks from her position in concern. “Guys, what is going on? Everyone is watching.” The last three words are hissed, though somewhat futilely considering everyone who has begun to exchange whispers.

Whispers that were now turning into a loud buzzing sound that is ready to overwhelm Beatrice’s senses.

“Look, I made a mistake, okay? But I can fix it! I can fix this!” Ava’s voice is frantic, her hands somehow ending up holding onto her own so tightly.

“What? Wait—what do you mean? What did you do??” The growing horror in Mary and Camila’s eyes is becoming too much.

Beatrice tries to pull away from Ava but her grip only gets tighter as the latter finally recognizes the emotionless mask the former nun tended to put back on whenever she was either gearing for serious warrior nun business or when she tended to be overwhelmed by emotions and needed the detachment.

And since they were far past done with warrior nun business…

“Beatrice. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, but I swear to you I didn’t mean to forget, and I didn’t mean to mess up. You have to believe me.”

Ava’s voice sounds so far away, Beatrice thinks. Whatever it is, could she forgive Ava? Could she overlook whatever transgression the love of her life had committed, just so she could keep her? For the rest of their lives?

“What did you do?”

Her voice is mostly a whisper, but it travels enough to at least reach its intended recipient.

Ava’s lips begin to part, and with bated breath, Beatrice awaits the truth to spill. In what could have only been a few seconds, it was eternity for the other as she wondered if she could be strong enough to hold on to Ava no matter what.

“I’m sorry, Bea. I think I lost our rings.”

* * *

Before Beatrice feels the need for a place to sit on that preferably wasn’t marbled floor, she thinks she can hear snippets of Lilith and Ava’s infamous rows from their early days, just as a larger part of her tries to focus on what Ava had uttered.

“How could you lose the rings—of all the items to misplace, Ava!”

“I’m sorry, would you have preferred for me to misplace my bride to be?”

“I said ‘items’ you nitwit.”

“I thought a ring boy was supposed to take care of the damn things?!”

“They’re called a ring bearer and YOU DON’T HAVE ONE.”

“Well why the fuck not??”

“Because it was _your_ idea!”

“Oh, hey nope! That was Camila’s! She said this wasn’t a church thing so why bother—HEY! It’s all your fault after all!”

“Please don’t rope me into this, Ava.”

“Alright, QUIET!”

Mary’s voice finally gets the point across, even to the audience.

“Beatrice? You okay?” Mary’s gentle tone makes its way through to Beatrice’s mind.

Bringing her gaze back up, she meets Ava’s repentant ones. Repentant pair of eyes that are still immersed in that thing called love. _Ava still loves me_.

And that is why amid all the drama and unfinished business of wedding ceremony mishaps, Beatrice chooses to lunge forward to capture Ava’s lips in a fierce kiss as her sole reply.

When Beatrice finally pauses and pulls a scant millimeter away to get some much needed air, Ava’s breathless question—tinged with all the awe and smitten feelings she holds for the woman before her—is the last straw that finally breaks the tension she’d been harboring since the song began to play.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven for losing the DJ too?”

* * *

Somewhere in the deep recesses of the library, Lilith’s exclamation of “How do you even lose a whole person?!” is nearly as legendary as the famous wedding drama that wasn’t.


End file.
